Determination: Naruto
by Tori101
Summary: It didn’t matter if they hurt. It didn’t matter if they bled. It didn’t matter if he was tired or if his arms were sore. He would keep it up all night, just to become stronger. Narutocentered. Part one of my Determination series. Oneshot


**Determination: Naruto**

It didn't matter if they hurt. It didn't matter if they bled. It didn't matter if he was tired or if his arms were sore. He would keep it up all night, just to become stronger. Naruto-centered. Part one of my Determination series. One-shot

**_Disclaimer_**: I don't own Naruto.

The muffled smack was followed by another, and another. Red stains were beginning to take place on the thick mat that covered the tree stump, but that was okay. It was a good sign, wasn't it? He'd been training relentlessly all day, with only one thought on his mind: to become stronger, to become better.

From sunup to way past sundown, he'd been here. He'd decided it was his arms that needed work today. Where the sun had once shone moonlight now took over. With each punch and smack, he was punching away all the words he'd heard from others. The words that portrayed he'd never amount to anything, that he'd never be strong enough to be a ninja, that he'd never be important, that he'd never make something of himself. He'd show them all, he'd make sure they saw him for what he really was. He'd wake them up.

Shouting in rage, he issued a rough punch point-blank at the mat. He winced from the sharp sting of pain from his knuckles to his wrist. He took the next few moments to take in deep breathes and rest for a bit. His arms were sore and felt heavier than ever, but he wouldn't let that stop him. His eyelids felt heavy, but that was unimportant. He could feel his stomach grumbling from his excess uses of his energy and the small meals he'd nibbled on all day, but he couldn't waste time eating a large meal. The small snacks had been enough.

Standing up straight, he tried stretching his arms again, even though it only worsened the soreness, and he resumed an attack position. Raising his arm, he shot it through the air towards the mat, hitting it again. The sweat on his brow made his skin itch and he felt the droplets of perspiration sliding down his temples and dripping down his neck. He was glad he'd shed his shirt and his torso was open to the cool night air.

But the more he wore on, he began to feel the exhaustion creeping in on him once again. But just when he felt he was slipping off the brink, he'd just remind himself of what the people of Konoha thought of him. That would always give him enough juice to continue, if just for a bit.

"I have to go on, just for a little longer…just a little more…" he whispered hoarsely.

Another smack to the mat and he winced again. Panting, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the tip of the mat. He allowed his arms to hang loosely at his sides, sore and numb at the same time. Painfully raising his right fist, he stared blankly at it. His palm was tainted red, and he could see dark pink and red areas all over his hand. The blood oozing slowly out of the open scrapes trickled down to his wrist and around to drip onto the earth below him.

He could hear their voices, talking about him right in front of him and in such cruel tones. Saying he'd never amount to anything and being a monster. Saying he was to blame for one beloved man's death. A man he'd never even met. If this guy had died to put the nine-tailed fox in him, in _him_, out of everyone else out there, didn't that make him semi-important at the least? Well? Didn't it!?

Curling his fingers into a fist, he squeezed his eyes shut and stepped back to strike the stump again with renewed vigor. Renewed strength. Renewed will. He put all that he had left into those attacks. Every last ounce of energy left in him, and then some. He just kept hitting that mat, trying to prove a point. Trying to prove himself. Trying to make himself stronger. He was determined to do this, he _had_ to do this.

But after his next punch, he found that he couldn't lift his other arm. He just…couldn't do it. Falling back, he barely felt himself make contact with the soft ground. The moon above him was a crescent, and the way he'd fallen, it looked like a smile. Closing his eyes, and using the last of his strength, he smiled weakly. Finally, something smiled for him.

**Fin**


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